The Moment Between the Striking and the Fire
by krisiwrites
Summary: My Chemical Romance. Mentions of Mikey/Frank.    The first time Mikey sees Frank, memories from a long time ago try to push to the forefront of his mind. He's got a feeling that there is more to Frank than meets the eye.


BTitle:/b The moment between the striking and the fire

BPairing:/b gen, mentions of Frank/Mikey

BRating:/b PG13

BWarnings:/b Religious themes, archangels, reincarnation

BSummary:/b The first time Mikey sees Frank, memories from a long time ago try to push to the forefront of his mind. He's got a feeling that there is more to Frank than meets the eye. But why does his brother attempt to keep them from meeting?

BBetas:/b lj user="kisseslikewar" and lj user="andimparalyzed" All remaining mistakes are my own

BDisclaimer:/b Not real, never happened. Title from the song "Jungle Drum"

The moment between the striking and the fire

iA long time ago

We used to be friends

But I haven't thought

of you lately at all.

If ever again

A greeting a send to you

Short and sweet

To the soul I intend /i

Dandy Warholes - Used to be friends

The first time Mikey sees Frank his brain shudders with recognition. It feels like finding the Ying to his Yang. The Batman to his Robin. The R2 to his D2. It is also absolutely ridiculous. Mikey isn't Gerard. He doesn't believe in soulmates.

In the end Mikey blames it on the beer, the music, and the way Frank bounces around on stage. He has a way of commanding everyone's attention and whatever flash of feelings Mikey may have had, had just been confusion of his overstimulated mind. That's all.

iThe air he's breathing is stale, filled with moans and cries. His heart is thumping forcefully in his chest. Sweat is trickling down over his face, in his eyes, causing him to blink rapidly. He doesn't know where he is and when he looks down he finds that his fingers are firmly curled around the hilt of a burning sword.

He's distracted by the noises around him swelling, the sound of metal clashing, the wind hollering. Looking around all he can see is people fighting, and it takes him a few seconds to comprehend that there are wings on their backs. Majestic and white all around him, but there's black hovering on the edge of his vision. Wings that look like they belong to a bat, leathery skin stretched between bones.

When somebody runs into him he stumbles a few steps forward. Something crunches under his boot and looking down he realises that he's standing on some body's hand. His eyes travel up the arm attached to it, to a chest, a face, until he's met with dead eyes, staring up into nothingness. His stomach turns and the world around him turns fuzzy at the edges. He thinks he hears a voice right before he passes out, echoing in his ears.

"Heaven help us."

/i

The second time Mikey sees Frank their eyes meet in a crowded room. Another basement show, but this time Frank's part of the audience. Once their eyes are locked it seems to Mikey that there is an invisible string between them, connecting them like something out of a Disney movie. Mikey is drawn forward, as if Frank is tugging on the string. His steps are sure and the noise of the crowd around him fades away until the only thing he hears is the rushing of his own blood. Frank's lips curl into a smile. There is a sharp edge to it, eyes gleaming. It's painfully familiar, yet Mikey can't place it.

When he's just a few steps away from Frank a hand curls around his wrist and Mikey is yanked back. The roar of he music and the crowd crash back down on him, almost crippling Mikey for a second. He blinks rapidly and when his vision steadies Gerard is in front of him, blocking the view. His grip around Mikey's wrist is tight.

"We gotta go."

Mikey blinks, confused by the urgency in Gerard's voice.

"What? We just got he-"

"It's an…emergency!"

Mikey has known his brother long enough to know that he's lying. He lets himself to be pulled out of the club, throwing a cautious glance back over his shoulder. Frank is still there, staring at their retreating backs with his lips pinched.

I The feeling of betrayal hits him hard and fast, like a punch to the stomach. His mouth is dry and his throat closes up as he tries to swallow. How can they stand there in front of him, self-righteous, and do this to him? He thought they were his brothers, not his hangmen.

Their faces remain impassive as he looks for a sign, something, telling him that this isn't it. He finds pity, guilt, and disbelief. When his eyes come to rest on the face of the person that matters most another punch to his stomach is delivered. There's confusion written on his face, fear, but also bitter betrayal. And just like that the flame of rage burning in his chest is spiked again, flaring up and devouring every other emotion. His lips press together in a tight line and after a last, lingering glance he turns on his heels and leaves.

The last word hasn't been spoken yet on this matter.

/i

For the past week, ever since Gerard had insisted on leaving the club at once, Mikey hasn't been able to go anywhere by himself. If it isn't Gerard hovering by his side and fiddling with the sleeves of his hoodie, obviously uncomfortable outside of his natural habitant - the basement - then Ray's following him around.

There is only so much Mikey can take, so sneaking out of the house is a completely valid plan. Gerard's and Ray's voices drifting over from the kitchen stop Mikey dead in his tracks, one foot still in the air as he's walking down the stairs.

"- not going to get rid off him so easily, Gee. It's been pure luck that we could hide from him this long. He's not gonna go away now because we ignore him."

"Fuck. I know." Gerard's voice is a peculiar mix of annoyed, exasperated, and fond.

"We could just tell him."

"No!" Gerard snaps, causing Mikey to flinch where he's standing stock-still on the stairs, one hand clenching the banister.

"No," Gerard repeats, softer this time, accompanied by a sigh. "Not after what happened last time."

In the following silence Mikey turns around and walks back upstairs, all thoughts of sneaking out having fled his mind.

iHis lips curve up into an asymmetrical smile as he reaches out and strokes his fingers over ruffled feathers. He can feel a returning smile bloom on his own face, a shudder running down his spine at the gentle touch.

The stars on the sky are shining bright tonight and he swings his legs. The brightest star of all is a warm presence by his side, arms pressed together from the elbow up.

"One of these days I'll make it right," he whispers conspiratorially. "Far away from His eyes." /i

The third time, Mikey doesn't have to go looking, it's Frank who finds him. He's standing in front of the Way's door, all casual attitude and boyish charm with his ripped jeans and tattooed skin.

"Michael. Long time no see." His lips curve up into an asymmetrical smile and Mikey swallows hard. There it is again, that sense of recognition, of a memory stirring that has been buried deep in his subconscious.

"Mikey, who is…it," Gerard trails off, voice gone weak. Frank's smile remains cheerful as he wriggles his fingers in greeting.

"What're you doing here?"

Mikes isn't used to his brother's voice sounding so harsh, but Frank remains unaffected.

"You know, just thought I'd drop by. Check in with old…friends."

The lines of Gerard's face harden and Mikey looks from Gerard to Frank back to Gerard as if he's watching a tennis match. When he looks back at Frank he finds himself pinned down by the other's intense stare.

"They didn't tell you, did they?" Frank asks.

"Told me what?" Mikey is starting to consider the possibility of somebody having slipped something into his drink. All of this is getting a little bit too weird.

"Frank-" Gerard takes a step forward, arm stretched out and ready to pull Mikey away. Before he can do that though Frank takes two quick steps and grabs Mikey's hand. There's the sound of blood rushing in his ears before Mikey has to close his eyes against the feeling of a box popping open, releasing a storm of memories.

i Michael feels helpless as he stands back, watching from the sidelines. Gabriel's wings are spread and he's standing tall, trying to block Michael from view entirely. Despite that Michael feels like he is out in the open, Lucifer's hot gaze resting heavily on him. Betrayal is so obviously written all over his face, his posture, that Michael's stomach lurches. He takes a step forward, ignoring Raphael hovering by his side.

"In His name, you're hereby banned from heaven. You're never to return, nor to speak His name or carry His message ever again."

Lucifer scoffs and his smoldering gaze settles on Gabriel. "You're nothing but his puppet, are you, Gabriel? What's my crime? Questioning our creator's rules? Having a mind of my own?"

"You have to leave now, Lucifer." Gabriel's stance remains impassive. For a minute nobody moves. Then Lucifer turns abruptly, setting foot on the path that will forever lead him away from heaven and into other, unknown spheres. A white feather flutters in the breeze and for a second Michael thinks it's a coincidence. But then, one by one, the feathers from Lucifer's wings are fall out. The wind picks them up and scatters them like snowflakes; the sky darkens. If he looks closely enough Michael is able to make out droplets of blood clinging to the pristine white.

After a minute there is nothing left of Lucifer's once magnificent wings. Nothing but bones and meat, twitching in barely suppressed pain. Within the blink of an eye the fleshy remains turn, become grey and then pitch black. Leathery skin stretches between bones like skin pulled to taut.

Michael can't help it, he takes another step forward and raises a hand, wanting to touch, feel those new wings beneath his fingertips. Gabriel is still in the way, but with a renewed sense of determination Michael side-steps him and breaks into a run. He's deaf to the cries of his brothers as he chases after Lucifer on the narrow path. He's so close and Lucifer, hearing his footsteps, turns around. His expression of surprise turns into one of horror as one of the cobblestones gives away under Michael's feet. He looses his balance and before he comprehends what is happening he's falling into the depths of nothingness.

/i

Regaining consciousness feels like breaking the surface of water and drawing in a much needed breath of air. Mikey blinks in confusion, unsure where the line of reality and dream needs to be drawn. When his eyes finally focus he sees Gerard and Frank hovering above him, torn between looking worried and glaring at each other.

"Mikey."

"Are you alright?" Frank elbows Gerard out of the way and takes one of Mikey's clammy hands in his own, warm ones.

"I'm…I guess," Mikey mumbles. His gaze flits between Frank and Gerard and one twitch of his eyebrow is enough to make Gerard look guilty. "Uhm…so…" Gerard hedges while Frank rolls his eyes. "Do you remember anything at all?"

Mikey carefully takes his glasses off and rubs his eyes, not sure if he's doing it to delay his answer or to clear his thoughts. Probably both. Now that the memories have been unlocked the itch at the back of his mind is gone. Instead he is almost content in the knowledge that he's seen centuries.

"I…think so?" It comes out as more of a question that he intends it to be. Looking at Frank he tilts his head to the side, pursing his lips. "It took you an awfully long time to show up."

Frank's smile is blinding, whereas Gerard's expression is thunderous.

"Gee-"

Before Mikey can finish his sentence Gerard stands up and leaves the room with a muttered "Whatever".

Mikey puts his glasses back on before looking at Frank for an explanation. He's used to Gerard's hissy fits, but his brother has never walked out on him like that.

"He's a real pro at holding grudges," Frank sighs and plops down on the floor, sitting pretzel-style. He picks at the frayed hem of his jeans, looking a little sullen when he finally speaks.

"When Gerard…Gabriel banned me, you ran after me. For whatever reason, and my personal guess is you being a klutz, you lost your balance on the path and you…you fell. I tried to grab you, but it was too late. He's never forgiven me for that. Because obviously I'm the personification of everything evil and consequently everything is my fault. If a mosquito bites a rice farmer in fucking China it is my fucking fault," Frank huffs and tugs a little harder on the worn fabric. "It took us ages to find you. Obviously. I mean, obviously it's taken me a damn long time, but it also took a while till Gabriel and Raphael found your soul. Still haven't worked out how exactly those things go, but when you fell you got your soul caught in the melting pot and queued up for reincarnation. I was looking for you, but they were faster." Frank's lips curve downward in an unhappy line. "Gabriel pulled some strings up there, probably bribed Fate and all organisational instances, so that you guys would end up as brothers here. Raphael and he have been working really hard to hide you away so I couldn't find you."

Mikey's mind spins as he tries to take in all the new information, connect it to the memories that have suddenly filled the blanks.

"I know that's kinda much to take in and you, uhm, I mean, if you don't want to see me and stuff-"

Kicking Frank in the shin stops the babbling and finally makes him look up at Mikey.

"This? Is totally weird. Good weird."

Frank's lips twitch up into a tentative smile.

The night sky is clear and the stars above them are unusually bright. In the past few weeks Mikey has remembered bits and pieces, but he has given up on trying to know or even become the person he once was. This is not history repeating. Just because they've had an unfortunate past doesn't mean that they can't create a better future. Gerard is still watching Frank with suspicious eyes, but he's gotten over the sulking.

Bumping his shoulder against Frank's as they sit on the terrace steps, smoking, Mikey smiles. Frank exhales a cloud of smoke before grinning. "Told you I'd make it right."


End file.
